Another Hunger Games: the story of the 72nd Games
by Ripple237
Summary: Nicholas Flynn, of District 3 only had his name in the bowl 3 times. The odds were in his favor. But he was chosen. Now he must survive the horrors of the Hunger Games and the Capitol in order to return home to his family. His intellect is superb, but that might not be enough to survive his biggest fear in the Arena... the other tributes. Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
1. Waking up

**Hello, and welcome to my first story! YAY! Please review and give me lots of constructive criticism, but no haters please. :) **

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The dreaded day had arrived again. Every time, I thought and hoped it wouldn't come. It did. I slowly sit up in my bed and try to ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach. Judging by my brother's empty bed, he had already gone down. He was more scared of the reaping than I was, even though his name would not be in the bowl for another two years. He is scared for me.

I swing my legs out of bed and stand up. I grab my glasses off the table. I should probably get dressed before going down, so I dress in a green button down to match my eyes. I comb my dark brown hair to the side. I walk slowly downstairs. My mom meets me at the foot of the stairs and draws me into a hug. I see that she had been crying.

I break away from her and say, "It will be ok Mom, I promise. Logic says that my 3 names won't be drawn from the hundreds of other names, the odds are definitely in my favor."

"I know, but I'm your mother, it's my job to be worried!" she says. I sit down at the table and begin to eat breakfast.

My dad has a job as an electrician in one of the biggest factories in the city, so we are in the Middle-class of our district. The entire basement has been devoted to his hobby: Inventions. Some work, some don't. It's that simple. There have been only ten explosions so far though. I guess that's good.

I live in District 3, the technology district. We live mostly good lives but we occasionally run out of food. We have 5 mouths to feed, Mom, Dad, Leo(my brother), and a former stray black cat, Spooky. I am 14 years old, and only a few months away is my birthday. The only thing a birthday usually marks is year without going into the Hunger Games. I thought about the Games and the Capitol a lot, and I was always frustrated at the unfairness of them.

My family was not openly rebellious, but we all hated the Capitol. I often put myself in the Games in my imagination to see if I would survive. I could most likely survive the arena(minus mutts) with my intellect. Unfortunately, the other tributes would probably kill me. Besides, I'm not really a people person. I am kind of social with people who are not complete idiots(there are not a lot), but I don't know about allies. Overall, my chances of survival in the games are roughly 40%. Yes, it's a little high, but I'm sure I could outwit almost half the tributes. I lack in physical skill though. I'm fast when I need to be, and I can swim(It's a long story.) I don't know about sponsors though. I'm not a supermodel like Finnick Odair, but I guess on a scale of one to ten of attractiveness, I would be a 6.2473. I always go over these statistics, but it's highly unlikely that I will be chosen.

Time in the kitchen whiles away after breakfast and already its time to go down to the Town Square. I inhale and exhale sharply. I won't be picked. Right?

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**Well. There you have it. Should I continue this?**


	2. The Reaping

**Hey guys, thanks to ****stormiecub, finnicko-loves-anniec, and Lennymuffin for their input on this story! This chapter is short, but the next ones will get longer(mostly.) :) P.S I have a problem of drifting in and out of present tense, so if I mess up(I will do the best editing beforehand that I can,) please let me know. **

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I trudge along the stone road, with all the factories whirring and emitting smoke into the air behind me. My family walks a few paces back, accustomed to my pre-reaping mood. I keep my head down and slouch low, making it clear I don't want any reassurance. My family is used to me being solitary anyway.

As we approach the line for 12-18 year olds to give identification, Mom and Dad draw me into a hug.

"Mom." I protest.

"It will be ok sweetie." she says in a soothing voice. "You won't be picked, you said so yourself."

"Yeah it will be fine." Dad says firmly, though whether to convince me or himself isn't clear They release me, and as I walk to stand in line, my brother waves and says, "Spooky says he'll see you soon." I smile at the thought of our cat coming into the town square and telling me that. My thumb is pricked by a female Peacekeeper. I've become accustomed to the small, quick jolt of pain. I walk over to the section with all the 14 year old guys. No one greets me. The feeling of dread returns_. _

_"I have to get out of here." _I say in my mind. I have to calm down. "Calm, calm, you're calm," I whisper under my breath.

A boom from the stage in front of the Hall of Justice makes my head snap up from the ground. Sitting in chairs on stage are the Mayor, his wife, and our 3 living victors, Beetee, Wiress, and Sodenta.

District 3 has had a total of 5 victors, 2 female and three male. Sodneta is probably the wild card in the group because she won her games with knives. She apparently worked in a factory where she used knives to cut open wires and such. She stabbed at any one who came in her way during the Games. She is the only District 3 victor who did not use technology to win the Games.

District 3's escort, Cornelius is looking just as stupid as he does every year. He wears a silver suit covered in sequins. I hate sequins. His hair is also silver, and he looks like a giant, silver ass. I despise him. He acts too happy every year, and confidently says, "May the odds be ever in favor!" every year as well.

"Welcome to the 72nd annual Hunger Games! As always we'll watch a short film brought to you directly from the Capitol!" he says brightly.

I hate the film, but I hate his stupid accent even more. The film tells of the Dark Days and how the Capitol stopped the uprising and "saved" the Districts. BS, I call it. My Dad uses even less polite language to describe it, but only when he's sure of not being overheard.

After the film ends, Cornelius begins his usual spiel, "Now, the hour of fate is upon us. A male and female champion of strength and endurance will be picked to represent their district in a tournament of honor and skill." He smiles as if we can win the Games with our strength and endurance. "Now I will select a male and female tribute from the bowls." He flashes his stupid smile yet again as he says this. He walks over the one of the glass balls and plunges his hand into it. He rummages around, making as big a deal of it as possible.

"Drama queen." I mutter.

He finally pulls out the name and reads aloud into the microphone. "Melissa Stevens," he calls. A short, brown-haired girl rises from the 15 year olds and takes the stage. She is shaking and has her fists clenched. "Wonderful, wonderful!" says the silver-haired psychopath with the plastic smile. "And now the boys." he says.

I inhale sharply. I won't be picked. The odds are against it. I have a mental battle in my head. _"It will be me."_ says one voice. _"No, it's close to impossible."_ says the other. I shake uncontrollably. Cornelius reaches his hand into the other glass reaping bowl and pulls out a name after a long, tense moment. _"It won't be me. It won't!" _I tell myself almost pleadingly. The name is read.

"Nicholas Flynn." It's me. I exhale sharply, unaware that I had been holding my breath. I feel numb and paralyzed, but people are looking my my direction, and I realize I have to move. I try not to shake as I walk up to the stage. A cry of woe can be heard from the adults. Mom. I must not look back, otherwise the tears will come. They do anyway, but I manage to keep them in the rim of my lower eyelid. I desperately want someone to volunteer , but no one will. That's how it goes in non-career trained districts. Peacekeepers escort me up, but I hardly notice.

I ascend the stage and stand by the male reaping bowl. I'm going die. It finally sinks in and I get over the initial shock. I'll never see Spooky again. I'm about to cry, but I can't let myself. Cornelius says something. I'm not listening. The girl, Melissa, turns toward me. He wants us to shake hands. Of course he does. We shake hands. Her hands are cold and shaky, just like mine. For the first time, I recognize her. I've seen her in the hallways at school. Cornelius says "Good Luck to you both, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" As if.

We are led into the Hall of Justice, and I turn around for what will be my last glimpse of my home. I look forward immediately after, so I don't have to see the doors close. A sharp clang rings out as the doors close on my life. I do love metaphors.

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**Hoped you liked it. Remember to review and Follow and Favorite if you want. Also PM me if you have any detailed input or any input for that matter, for the story. Thanks again for your support! :D Next chapter will be goodbyes. **


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